


It Feels Like I've Come Home

by Bluejay141519



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Already Together, Cute, M/M, Rainy Days, Slice of Life, minor hurt/comfort, no crepes were harmed in the making of this fic, soft boys in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 14:24:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19319980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluejay141519/pseuds/Bluejay141519
Summary: A rainy day in with the boys taking care of each other. Sid is only a little stubborn.





	It Feels Like I've Come Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aggressivelybicaptainamerica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aggressivelybicaptainamerica/gifts).



> Not only have I never written poly before, but I didn't even know this ship existed until I got my assignment. I am now, unfortunately, in love with it.

 

Flower wakes slowly, a soft grey light filling the room. It’s just a little to cool in the room, but with two other bodies under the down comforter he’s perfectly comfortable.

 

It takes him a while, what with rain pattering against the window as background noise and both his boys in bed next to him, but eventually he gets to higher consciousness. Enough that he can grin at the state of Tanger's hair and wish he had his phone to take a picture, but not want to move his arm less he disturb Sid.

 

And naturally, once he moves his attention from the body on his right to the one of his left, he’s hit with such a strong feeling of fondness that it makes his chest warm and stomach flip with happiness. It always amazes him that he managed to get so lucky.

 

It wasn’t easy - nothing with Sid ever is, but add Tanger into the mix and they began to resemble a highly combustible substance that if handled the wrong way would result in an explosion. One that would’ve caused damage to everyone near.

 

But then, if there were any two people Marc-Andre knew how to deal with, it was Tanger with all his anger and Sid with all his stubbornness. Maybe the former was a little easier than the latter, but he made it work. Now he gets to wake up to this.

 

It’s everything.

 

It’s Kris’ bed head and octopus like limbs that cling to Flower in the middle of the night. It’s Sid’s soft indescifrable mumbles and the way he just about preens like a cat when someone runs their fingers through his hair. It’s Flower being able to have them both, all weird superstitions and idiosyncrasies in one place, making his heart feel full and safe between them.

 

Tanger rolls over, burrowing his head in Marc-Andre’s shoulder and sighing in content as if he can hear Flowers sappy thoughts.

 

“He up yet?” He nearly misses the mumbled french. He was sure Tanger would go back to sleep, but with the dim light he’s got no reference for time.

 

Flower smiles fondly. “Are you?”

 

Kris just hums, dragging his toes down Marc-Andre’s calf as he stretches. “Nope.” He says, popping the ‘p’, but he definitely sounds more awake than his body language would say. Sid snuffles in his sleep, making them both freeze. Tanger raises his head to cautiously peer over Flowers chest. Luckily Sid just mumbles something and roles over, sliding back into sleep easily.

 

They both give simultaneous sighs of relief. Sid is normally a morning person, but not when he’s as exhausted as he was last night. Overtired Sid is a Very Cranky Sid, and _no one_ wants to deal with that.

 

It wasn’t a pretty hit, is what Flowers saying. It made it especially worse that he was in goal, but unable to do anything. He didn’t see it when it happened, considering it was right behind his net, but he _heard_ it. Vaguely registered Sid rush behind him to help the defense, and then there was this horrible crunch that made his insides twist.

 

He saw the replay anyway. It’ll be enough to give him nightmares.

 

Horny had cleared it and Sid had gotten to his hands and knees, but Flower still couldn’t leave the net, and there still hadn’t been a whistle. His furtive glances and worried calls of his Captains name got him nothing. Sid skates off by himself, wobbly and unbalanced, then went right down the tunnel.

 

The training staff said no concussion, thank god, but it still rattled the team - especially Flower and Kris - enough that they couldn’t focus. They lost, and trudged home, but it didn’t sting he was used to. Most of the team just seemed so relieved that Sid would be back in a few days instead of a few months.

 

His phone probably has several dozen text messages on it at this point, none from his actual teammates. They’ll be from people around the league who care about Sid and heard about the hit and assumed the worst.

 

Then there will be another thousand from the actual team, and it’s a good thing he’s planning on spending the whole day lounging around because he’s gonna need the time to fend off a large group of overly worried hockey players.

 

He loves days off like this.

 

Sid stirs again and Flower sighs. Everyone in bed probably hoped he’d sleep longer, Sid included if the way he scrunches up his nose and tries to bury his face in his pillow is anything to go by.

 

 _“Es-tu réveillé des calmar?”_ He asks. Sid mumbles something about...calamari?

 

Tanger snorts. “He called you _‘squid’_ , you adorable idiot. Not sushi.”

 

Flower smiles as Sidney rolls over and curls into his side. Flower lands a kiss in his hair while Tanger complains. “Oh sure, he gets pet names and kisses, I get insulted about bed head.”

 

“I didn’t say a word, dear.”

 

“You were thinking it.” Kris accuses, and yeah okay his hair is… its just really funny considering the amount of time he puts into care and treatment of the dark locks only for it to be sticking straight up in places and look oddly matted in others. Flower is only human. The only thing keeping him from starting a chirp fest is how soft the moment is. He doesn’t want Kris to start thinking he’s got to look a certain way for them too - all the sarcasm and swagger he shows the public is a carefully constructed facade, one that took him and Sid a long time to break through.

 

Tanger takes his silence for the confirmation it is, grumbling a few swears but tucking his face into Flowers neck.

 

He really hopes they aren’t about to go back to sleep. He’s gotta pee.

 

Luckily Sid shifts again, but does so in a way that Marc-Andre’s come to associate with restlessness, usually from pain.

 

“You okay, Sid?” He ask quietly, nudging him just slightly to get his attention.  


“Headache.” Sid mumbles, finally coherent enough to make correct words. Flower hums and trails his fingers through the dark curls. He’s been complaining about not having time to get a haircut, but Flower loves his longer hair and Tanger is oddly proud of it, like he’s somehow responsible for the length of it.

 

So maybe they’ve been trying to keep him occupied so he doesn’t cut it. Whatever.

 

Kris lifts his head from Flowers shoulder, blinking sleepily at the two of them. He doesn’t say anything, just slides out of the bed and firmly tucks the covers to keep his warm spot.

 

“Just gettin Tylenol.” He informs them when Flower raises his eyebrow. He comes back a moment later with a glass of water and some pills. Setting both on the side table closest to Sid, he unplugs his phone and scrolls through the notifications while walking back over to his side of the bed.

 

Kris climbs back into bed but doesn’t really lay down, sitting up against the headboard instead. Flower glances at the screen, and sure enough he’s replying to about a thousand texts.

 

“Nate texted you?” He asks, surprised.

 

“It’s your phone.” Kris responds, not even phased as he huffs out an exasperated sigh.

 

“Course.”

 

Tanger makes an interested sort of noise, fingers flying across the key board.

 

“Why don’t you just send a mass text?” Flower wonders, watching as he tries to type out individual messages to each. “Or like- one message then copy paste.”

 

Kris raises his head, looks at the wall for a few seconds, then pinches the bridge of his noise. _“Je suis un idiot._ ” He mumbles, making Flower laugh. Sidney groans, rolling away from both of them and almost off the bed.

 

He catches himself before Flower does, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side with a sigh. When he speaks his voice is that deep raspy thing it always it when he first wakes up. “Why are we up so early?”

 

“Its ten thirty.” Tanger deadpans, still focused on the phone. Sid downs the pills and water, then gets up to stumble his way to the bathroom without a word.

 

Flower stares at the closed door long enough that Kris’ fingers end up falling softly through his hair.

 

“Worried?”

 

“I’m always worried.” He sighs, rubbing at his face. “He’s hurt, Kris.”

 

“He’s achy and he’s tired. Not hurt.”

 

“Tanger…”

 

“Hey.” He shifts, and Flower leans up automatically to kiss him. He pulls back maybe a few inches, locking them both in an intense gaze. “He’s alright, alright? _Détends mon chérie,_ we’ll just have a movie day okay? Relax for a while.”

 

He kisses him again. “Okay.”

 

**...**

 

It’s really not often they get to be like this, the three of them together without hockey. Even less that they get those days without injury, and while _technically_ Tanger is right, Sid is not hurt, both him and Kris remember the concussion, and fuck if they’re gonna do that again.

 

Really it just means they’re gonna spend the day fretting until Sid snaps, which is great because it satisfies Flowers urge to both take care of and annoy the hell out of Sid. Two of his favorite activities honestly, and he gets to do them with his two favorite people.

 

“Plant you big ass back in that bed, Crosby.” Tanger snaps, half into a pair of sweats that are a size too big for him. The pool around his ankles and give him an especially soft look, hair still unstyled and flopping in his face.

 

Sid freezes halfway through the motion of getting up. The fact that he flops back onto the bed instead of getting out of it only adds to Marc-Andre’s worry. Sid’s stubborn to his core. When someone tells him not to do something, usually it only fuels him to not only do that thing, but do it so well it becomes laughable that he was ever doubted in the first place.

 

It’s taken them a while, from even before they got together, in the early years when they all danced around the idea of a serious relationship, focusing on being young and dumb and denying their love. Quite literally _years_ of heavy talks and small meaningful gestures had to be had before Sid would actually let them take care of them.

 

He still acts like they took his skates away from him (again) but at least he lets them.

 

Most of the time.

 

“Are you two gonna do this all day?” He snarks, and Flower smirks from where he stands in the doorway to the bedroom.

 

“Yup.” Him and Kris answer at the time. Sid huffs, staring up at the ceiling.

 

“Can I at least go down stairs?”

 

Tanger finishes getting dressed, dragging a sweatshirt over his head while Flower starts cracking up at the petulant tone. For a Captain in the NHL, Sid really has the ‘over tired four year old not getting what they want’ voice down pat.

 

“At some point, I suppose.” Kris yells back, already half way down the stairs. Sidney looks at him, a frown on his face that Marc-Andre would call a pout if he had only a tad less respect for his boyfriend.

 

Sid sighs again, and alright, yeah that's a pout. He wants to kiss it away, so he’s probably way to fond of it.

 

“Just let him make you breakfast, eh?” He plays with the hem of his pens t shirt, unable to look directly at Sid. He doesn’t want to admit that he’s having a hard time with all this - it’s probably bad that he feels more strange being in a situation where Sid is _not_ hurt than one where he is.

 

“He’s gonna _hover_ all fucking _day-_ ”

 

“It freaked us out, okay?” Flower snaps, then winces. The banging of pots and pans down stairs goes suspiciously quiet and he sighs. “You didn’t see it.” He continues, quieter.

 

Sid still looks petulant, like he wants to complain more but he very rarely hears Marc-Andre that agitated. “Well of course I didn’t see it, I _felt_ it.”

 

He takes a deep breath, trying to get his words in order. He knows Sid is only doing this because it scared him too, and Sid never deals with fear well. Especially since they’re all older now, and retirement isn’t as far down the road as they would like. Plus, despite what he is going to try and convince them of, Sid's sore. He’s probably dehydrated and didn’t sleep well, hence the headache, but he knows. That scares Sidney.

 

Flower doesn’t blame him, it scares him too. It’s just that whole “ _this scared me so I’m resorting to latent coping methods that involve pushing away those who care about me_ ” that he’s not okay with.

 

“Yes,” He agrees, hands held out in a peaceful gesture. “But you didn’t see your head snap back and you didn’t see the way you crumpled to the ice. _You_ didn’t have to wonder if you were unconscious, _you_ didn’t have to decide between keep moving the puck or rushing to your boyfriends side, _you_ didn’t have to decide between guarding a fucking net and tracking the puck or taking your eyes off the game for more than a second and skating four feet to your right to help your potentially concussed best friend.

 

“I’m not trying to invalidate how it happened Sid, I’m just asking you to let him take care of you. Let _us_ take care of you.”

 

Sid looks thoroughly cowed by the end of his little speech, which - _good_ , he listened but also - _bad_ , he didn’t want to make Sidney feel like it was wrong of him to speak up. Another habit they’ve had to work to get him out of.

 

“Fine.” He whines, but makes to get out of bed. He glares at Flower, dragging the _entire comforter_ off with him and wrapping it around his shoulders. “But I’m not staying upstairs all day.”

 

He then proceeds to walk down the stairs with the thing still around his shoulders, and while Flower was at least trying to giggle silently, the big bark of Tanger's laughter when Sid hits the kitchen takes away all pretense of dignity.

 

...

 

They make breakfast together. Or Flower and Tanger make breakfast, Sid gets banished to the couch in the living room with several ice packs and orders to pick something to watch that isn’t a documentary or war movie. He yells out titles and ideas that they both deny until there’s a distinct silence that says Sid’s actually picking something himself, so it’s either HGTV or The Food Network.

 

He’s pushing around Kris, who's being a little shit like normal, trying to get to the stove before his crepe burns when the casual atmosphere gets stripped away. Tanger is abnormally serious when he asks, “Do you really think he’s okay?”

 

Flower kills the crepe with his spatula, ripping it down the middle. He swears softly and scoops it onto a plate to be picked at.

 

“Why do you think he’s not?” He responds, pouring new batter so he doesn’t have to turn around and look at Kris. He’s worried, but he’s always worried, and sometimes he thinks his biggest fear isn’t losing Sid, it’s losing him to something he missed because he was too busy telling himself it was fine. It’s not so weird to him either, that Tanger when from reassuring him, to needing to be reassured. 

 

The sound of a knife hitting a cutting board stops abruptly. Flower glances over his shoulder to see a frankly alarming amount of fruit already sliced into piles. 

 

He didn’t plan on making  _ that  _ many crepes, but then Kris has always needed to have busy hands when he’s stressed.

 

Flower pokes at the edges of the two crepes before finally admitting defeat and turning around to face Tanger. The defenseman crosses his arms and stairs at the floor, which he feels is sort of unfair since he started this whole thing. A new episode of some cooking show is starting in the background, volume just loud enough to know that Sid is more focused on grumpily reflecting his couch banishment than he is their conversation.

 

He takes a deep breath. “Kris…”

 

“The headache-”

 

“They checked him for a concussion.” He reminds gently. They were both in the room when the trainers cleared him.

 

“Okay but- but what if he’s- if there’s something else?”

 

Flower cocks his head to the side, wary of the crepe batter behind him.“You think there’s something he’s not telling us?”

 

Tanger finally raises his head, but can’t seem to find Flowers eyes. “I think...it wouldn’t be the first time he’s done so.”

 

He feels his eyes widen. “He’s never lied to us Tanger.”

 

“He hide things from the trainers-”

 

“But never from  _ us _ .” 

 

So maybe Marc-Andres had this argument with himself before. Maybe he’s gone through this with himself every time Sid’s been hit, and every time he’s been injured. Maybe this isn’t that new for him, but it  _ is  _ new for Kris.

 

Because before it was Crosby and Letang and Fleury, it was just Sidney and Flower. Kris just meshed so seamlessly with them, that Marc-Andre sometimes forgets he wasn’t there in the beginning. 

 

His crepes are going to burn if he stays staring at Tanger any longer, so he turns around with a slight huff to flip them. There’s a sigh in return, but the sound of fruit being sliced starts up again. 

 

They stay in silence until they have three separate plates piled high with various crepe creations. Before they go out with them however, Flower carefully folds Tanger into his arms, handling him with a care they rarely see of each other.

 

Kris shudders, and for a moment Flower is afraid he’s crying. Not that he would blame him really, having a scare like what they had with Sid can be terrifying. It’s just that Flower has only ever seen Tanger cry one time, and it was when they asked him to be their boyfriend.

 

“He’s okay  _ mon amour, ça va,  _ yes? He’s okay.”

 

_ “J'avais si peur, Flower.”  _ He whispers back. 

 

_ “Je sais, mon chou. _ ” Flower murmurs, tucking his face into Kris’ hair and kissing his forehead. “He’s cranky and he’s tired, but he’s okay. And even if he wasn’t, we’d deal with that too. Together.”

 

Tanger pulls back looking a little red eyed but overall is no worse for wear. He grabs a plate and leaves the other two for Flower before waltzing into the living room where Sid is sitting looking very suspiciously at the both of them.

 

“That took a while.”

 

“We were discussing if we should use rope to tie you to the couch, or if it would just be easier to knock you out.” Tanger quips, picking his way around the coffee table to get to his designated seat on the right of Sid.

 

“I  _ can  _ relax, you realize this right?” He grumbles, taking the plate of food offered to him right as Tanger and Flower shoot him the same disbelieving look. “You made crepes?”

 

“Of course I made crepes. Who do you take me for?” He scoffs. “I know they’re you’re favorite.” 

 

Sid stares suspiciously at the plate in his hands. Part of his hair is sticking straight up while the rest of it is flattened. It’s a little hilarious.

 

Tanger ruins it by adding, “It’s the only thing he knows how to make.” 

 

Flower throws a pillow at him. He dodges, skillfully keeping his plate from losing any fruit off the literal mountain he has. Marc-Andre still isn’t entirely convinced there’s even a crepe under there.

 

They settle back with their breakfast that’s really lunch with minimal rough housing, and from there it’s a day of movies and random television episodes and way to much sugar for the three of them.

 

The rain stay steady, and by the time Marc-Andre and Kris start thinking about dinner the steady pit-patty on the windows has sent Sid back into oblivion. The Captain pushed himself onto his side sometime in the mid-afternoon, claiming a pillow and Tanger's thigh to prop it up because ‘ _ Flower yours is too bony _ ’.

 

He did  _ not  _ take offence to that, (shut up Tanger) and instead went about draping a blanket over him and removing some soggy ice packs.

 

“You think he’ll want Thai?” Kris scrolls through his phone. Flower absently watches his hand drift through Sid's hair, and wonders when they got to feel so easily comfortable with each other. He wonders how he didn’t notice.

 

A pillow beans him in the head, falling harmlessly on the floor like it didn’t just scare the living hell out of him.

 

He glares at the Tanger. He doesn’t even look up from his phone. 

 

“Stop thinking so hard. It’s just take out.”

 

“He’ll say he wants Thai because it’ll be healthier but the reality is-”

 

“-he wants a massive bowl of lo mien from that shit chinese place, yeah you’re right.” Kris fiddles with his phone for a few more seconds before glancing up at Marc-Andre with a grin.

 

Flower sighs. “You want me to order it?”

 

“Well you know, he might wake up. And if I get up to make a call in the kitchen, then he’s definitely going to wake up, so…”

 

“You’re despicable.” He grumbles, gently removing Sids feet from his lap and standing from his seat. His knees make a few interesting sounds that have Tanger silently laughing and Flower flipping him the bird in retribution.

 

He places their usual order with little ceremony. Padding back to the edge of the living room where they’ve spent their day, he pauses at the edge to lean against the wall and gaze at his boys.

 

Sid nothing but a lump of blankets from this angle, and if he wasn’t sure that there was a pile of messy black curls sticking out from underneath, he wouldn’t have been able to definitively say that there were two humans on that couch.

 

“Hey,” He calls softly. Kris turns his head to look at him, a soft smile gracing his features when he sees Marc-Andre.

 

“Hey.” Sid shifts a little, mumbling into Tangers thigh about the color yellow, but ultimately staying asleep.

 

He can’t describe how much he loves them. His heart hurts with it, and he knows there isn’t much he wouldn’t do to keep them happy.

 

“Flower?”

 

He swallows, shuffles his feet a bit. “I just- you know I know it wasn’t easy, but I’m...I’m really glad you’re here Kris.”

 

Tanger smiles, a real, blinding act that lights up his whole face, the room, and probably heals something inside Marc-Andre. It’s a secret smile, one that he only shows people he really cares about. One he keeps just for Flower and Sid.

 

“Me too, Flower.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! thanks for reading :)
> 
> \-----
> 
> Everything was done with google translate so this probably makes no sense to anyone who actually speaks french.
> 
> Translations:  
> “Es-tu réveillé des calmar” = Are you awake, squid?
> 
> “Détends mon chérie” = relax my darling
> 
> “mon amour, ça va” = my love, he’s okay
> 
> “J'avais si peur, Flower” = I was so scared, flower
> 
> “Je sais, mon chou” = I know sweetheart


End file.
